


A Family Affair

by fractalserpentine, HopeofDawn



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: BDSM, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Cock Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Vampire Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5280863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalserpentine/pseuds/fractalserpentine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeofDawn/pseuds/HopeofDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anani lifted his hand again, but this time the razored edges were not brandished in supplication. If Raziel truly intended to accept his fate as written; if he meant to keep his Razielim, his fine instruments of the battlefield, rusting in the backwaters of a beautiful world... how were they to withstand it? What was peace to the Razielim anyway? Anani growled lowly, his deliberate snarl exposing the tips of his fangs. "Little wonder that the question of fitness could be raised."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of a long-running and cross-fandom RP game, but the present scene can be enjoyed on its own (err, if you don't mind a whole lot of violence and oral sex, that is.) 
> 
> The basic premise is that Raziel was placed back into his physical body after the events of Defiance by mysterious Powers. He then returned in time to the year after his execution, and after several battles with the Hylden, moved his Razielim back to the time just after the Ancients' curse. 
> 
> The surviving Razielim still carry the taint of their age, however, and who can say how much time Raziel will have before being forced to return to the Reaver...

Anani approached Raziel's makeshift quarters just as his Lord's latest meal was being led away. Madai played the role of token guard this night; he stiffened to attention as Anani stepped through the door, his talons tightening on his halberd. Anani nodded briefly in greeting, then stood silently, awaiting Raziel's acknowledgment. 

Outside the broad, arched windows, two younger vampires fought viciously at one end of the field -- a friendly duel to the incapacitating injury. Several others watched, prepared to intercede if necessary. Nearby, slaves graded and stacked hides atop a cart, working under close supervision of their handler, for none of the humans were yet fully broken. A pair of Razielim architects compared samples of quarried stone, testing the materials' response to chiseling and cracking forces. The clan hummed with activity.

This small township, at the base of the citadel even now being built, had been delivered unto the Razielim by their winged hosts. It was a suitable temporary abode, while the towers were raised. 

Still, for all the benefits of having mages such as the Ancients among them, there were drawbacks by the fistful. Slaves could not be slain, taken, nor even disciplined within possible view of an Ancient -- which in practice meant any place open to the sky. The Razielim were even obliged to gag the more unruly members of their rapidly growing stock, lest the mortals produce undue noise. Anani approved of and enforced the restrictions, but at the same time, found them as burdensome as did every other Razielim. Or nearly every other. 

Anani doubted, however, that it was the Ancients whom Raziel kept in mind as he took his repast. The departing bloodslave was clearly weak, but quite whole apart from the fang marks, and would bear no scars from his encounter with the Clanlord. Judging from the knots, he had not even been unbound. Since Anani had handpicked the man -- and Raziel's last five meals before that -- this was more than a little mystifying. The mortals all were young, strong, healthy, and possessed of exceptionally fine-tasting blood. Three had been spoils of the battlefield, with hard, sword-trained bodies and callused hands. Three had been slightly softer, sleeker, their training in arts other than martial rendering their forms more classically pleasing. They'd borne a range of features and coloration, but all had been quite beautiful. Some had been defiant, some compliant. One had even been female, in the interests of variety, though finding a suitable one amongst the stocks after Tarrant's depredations had taken some doing.

Raziel had taken particular interest in none of them. Admittedly, he did have other concerns -- the Ancients demanded a large portion of Raziel's time, and directing the construction of a citadel took more. The city, the Ancients, even Vorador's existence -- all were unrelentingly strange, which was stressful for creatures accustomed to passing entire centuries in which little changed. All the more reason then, in Anani's estimation, to take the full measure of enjoyment from one's prey.

Not to mention, of course, the matter of the Clan's revival. Under normal circumstances, Raziel chanced upon a few dozen humans worth turning every decade -- he might mark them first, might toy with or test them, but the end result was a new line every year or two, new blood and new possibility for the clan. And now the need was greater than ever. So many strong lines, and old friends, had been lost....  
Anani lifted his head as a dark brush of acknowledgment touched upon his mind, a distracted caress, warm and Stygian as the very breath of the night. As always, the contact raised a shiver up the length of Anani's spine, an involuntary echo, as if his very bones knew their source and Master. Anani set his hand to the gilded wooden door, and entered quietly.

The chambers had probably once been the apartment of an entire family of Ancients. A series of columned arches framed the division between an expansive balcony and the high-ceilinged rooms. Several small chambers contained space for storage, sleeping, and a bathing pool that stayed perpetually warm, but the largest room was central, lit now by the warm glow of embers in a fluted fireplace. Shelves set against the white marble walls were laden with books; maps and plans lay scattered across tables and the undisturbed surface of one of the Ancients' bedlike sleeping platforms, moved from a side room. Backless chairs and divans clustered near the fire, and it was there he found Raziel, his folded wings shadowed, a book in one hand tilted towards the light. The Clanlord held a smooth length of wood -- a product of Razielim artisans -- in the other, its blunt-chiseled tip trailing idly over the spidery runes of the Ancients' writing. The butt end of the rod was capped in a tacky rubber. Used carefully, the shaft could be employed to turn the pages of a book without damage to the text, a task for which an elder's murderous talons were unsuited.

The only items not of human or Ancient construction were the bolts driven into the walls in two places... and the manacles, presently empty, which dangled from them.

"My Lord," said Anani, announcing himself as he bowed, fist clasped over heart. Raziel's skin was faintly flushed with stolen heat, the new blood and the firelight conspiring to cast his flesh in slightly warmer hue. The effect made him seem centuries younger -- unless, of course, one were able to sense the latent nimbus of energy that surrounded Raziel, that filled the room with a pressure like the tension before sunrise. _That_ wasn't young in the least.

"Anani," Raziel greeted him, turning his attention away from the borrowed tome. Tilting his head, he scrutinized his firstborn's expression, finding there the faint remnants of the scowl that Anani had not quite been able to banish. "Your countenance appears sour--are the preparations proceeding so ill?" Oblivious to Anani's true concerns, Raziel's only thoughts were for the road ahead. The Razielim were claiming lands they could truly call their own. Such ambition required a great deal of planning, however, and as always, a disproportionate amount of that burden had fallen upon Anani's capable shoulders.

The Razielim had always been a warrior Clan--Raziel himself had ensured it. Even the Empire's finest warriors, however, required more mundane support as well; quartermasters, administrators, engineers, and artisans of all stripes, to name just a few. Few, however, had survived that long year following Raziel's execution. Between the depredations of the other Clans and their own despair, the Razielim had been halved--and of that surviving half, most had been warriors; those with not only the training, but the sheer bloody-minded ferocity to survive when all the world had turned against them. Those survivors had served Raziel well against the Hylden, it was true. But now ....

... now Anani had the unenviable task of mustering what few resources remained to the Clan. The Ancients, ever helpful, had offered the services of their own artisans--yet there was a great deal Raziel did not dare trust to them.

Anani had taken some care to compose his features -- but before his Sire, he might as well be transparent as Turelim glass. "Preparations proceed apace, and under the circumstances, I am not much displeased. I bring the metals production numbers from the south mines, that you might judge for yourself," Anani said, stacking the waxed tablets he carried on the low table in front of Raziel, careful to handle the wax-covered wooden squares by the edges only. 

"I took the liberty of ordering the first wagons of smelted steel sent directly to the building site. There is little reason to doubt the quality of Artimis' craft." It had been but a few weeks since a small contingent of Razielim arrived to take control of the southern Tyrian mines from the Ancients, but already the raw steel was reportedly many times finer than before. It was amazing how hard humans could be induced to work, when the penalties for doing otherwise were properly... imaginative. "He reports that the mines had seen little expansion o'er the past few decades, however. Quantity of metals, therefore, may yet prove an obstacle." Anani paused, selecting his words delicately. "Particularly as space is to be prepared for our future numbers." 

"Future numbers?" Raziel echoed, his eyebrows arching sharply upward. Long-used to the maneuverings of the Lieutenants as they vied for Kain's favor, Raziel was not so oblivious as to mistake the meaning--and the concern--behind Anani's words. He closed the tome carefully, mindful of the fragile vellum, and put it aside, settling all his attention upon his firstborn. "We can make do with stone and timber, if necessary, until the necessary ore is mined." For fortifications, at least. Their weapons and armor, with few exceptions, were more than equal to anything the humans produced in this time, and they still possessed the enchanted arms the Ancients had pressed upon them. It would all wear out and need to be replaced in time, but careful husbanding would lessen that need for a few decades, at least.

"And yet I do not think that is the lack that truly concerns you," Raziel observed. Ignoring the reports before him, he laced his talons together and studied the other vampire. "You believe our numbers--and our fledglings--are inadequate for survival?" Even vampires died, whether through combat or mischance ... or execution. Did Anani believe their losses had been too great to sustain their numbers?

Raziel did not wish to create another empire. That had always been Kain's ambition. He simply wanted his Clan safe--and ideally, prosperous. Not for the first time, however, he wondered what that truly meant. They could not continue as they always had, culling the human herds as they wished. To act as if they lived in an Empire that did not yet exist--and now might not ever--was madness. Nor could they drive humans from their midst, even with blood fountains to hand. Living vitae was their sustenance, fundamental to their existence. Without it, Raziel felt certain that his progeny's bloodthirst would drive them to rebellion, regardless of their loyalty.

What then remained? An alliance was impossible. Humans viewed themselves as masters of all they surveyed; their betrayal of the creatures that dared prey upon them would be inevitable. No, if the Razielim were not masters, then they would be slaves--and nothing more than tinder for the the Sarafan pyres in the ages to come. Nosgoth was the same as it ever had been, even in this lush and verdant age; kill or be killed. Was it folly to search for something more?

When it became apparent that he would not be immediately dismissed, Anani settled smoothly to one knee, that his Sire might not be forced to look up at him. It was an easy motion, the habit of long practice. "Survival?" Anani frowned. "My Lord, unless we somehow prevent it, the Sarafan will rise in due course, will they not?" The second Sarafan force - the one from whose ranks he had been redeemed - had taken centuries to fully collapse. The continent had been dotted with Sarafan chapels, Sarafan training grounds. As Sarafan armies swept the countryside clean of creatures undead, unnatural, or simply fearsome, they had changed the face of the world. And yet, the Sarafan which Anani had combated had been but shadows of the original. Tales and legends of those murderers had persisted even into the empire.

Anani shook his head. "There are none more able to stand alone than your Razielim, but... our ranks are thin, and we have not the numbers of your brethren to fall back upon." Nor their abilities. Younger vampires recalled the other clans only as adversaries - Anani remembered the glory and the strength when all six took to the battlefield as one. There could be no question that a Razielim's speed was all the more effective when coupled with Rahabim magery, Dumahim ferocity, Turelim skill, or even Zephonim subterfuge and intelligence. And without the Melchiahim... how many Razielim would be forced from the front lines for years--or decades--simply due to relatively minor injuries, such as the loss of a limb? 

"Yes--in time, the humans will raise their kingdoms and churches, and the Sarafan will come," Raziel replied, his answer deceptively mild as he watched the other vampire. Anani's hesitation was nigh-unnoticeable; the merest tinge of anxiety touching the thin thread of communication that existed betwixt Sire and offspring. However, even such tiny reservations were a matter of concern. Anani's loyalty was absolute; if even he had begun to question the path on which Raziel had set his Clan ....

"What measures, then, would keep us safe? Tell me, Anani--how many vampires would you have us Sire? How many would it take to defend the Clan against a world of humans? Or do you dream of a new Empire, mine own? Should I now call myself Emperor?" The words were hard, unyielding. A mere two years previous, by Anani's reckoning, they would also have been the worst kind of traitorous blasphemy. The very idea that a vampire other than Kain might exalt himself to Emperor was anathema, and a slow, torturous death had been visited upon any vampire voicing such ambitions.

Kain--had been a God most jealous of his primacy.

That gave Anani pause, and he cast his gaze aside for a moment, Raziel's words -- the very idea! -- evoked a physical discomfort. He knew of those long and torturous deaths as well. Even those who impeded Kain inadvertently were so dealt with, as the Zephonim, with their labyrinthine and sometimes countercrossing schemes, had discovered on more than one occasion. And yet... "Shall you not, my Lord?" asked Anani quietly, steeling himself.

In the flat silence that followed those words, Anani tilted his head slightly, baring a little more the smooth column of his throat. "Build an Empire, strong against all threats, and you shall afford us safety aplenty - but also the space in which our arts and our talents might flourish once more. Latitude to thrive - not merely abide -- for us... and for the Ancients, should you will it so."

Anani drew a slow breath. "Our design is to conquer. We were made for it, built for it - shaped by your hand for that purpose. Lead us in it." Anani spread his talons in illustration or in plea; the chevron-grooved undersides that afforded near-perfect grip upon any instrument of war, the finely serrated cutting edges that could cleave through flesh or leather or chainmail with equal ease. 

Raziel regarded those taloned hands soberly, thinking upon what to say.

"Your purpose remains, Anani. On that, you have my word. I would not ask the lions of the Empire to humble themselves as if they were sheep, nor keep my hawks mewed away from the sky." He shifted, reaching forward to trace a talon-tip along the line of Anani's armored palm. "But this place we will carve out for ourselves must be our own, not Kain's. Already we have come to a world with riches he could never have fathomed--" there was a certain irony in that, given that it had been Kain's fledgling self that had first accompanied him upon this mad journey. "--a world that has never known an Empire, before even the first human kingdom. We are at the beginning of all things, Anani; this requires a certain amount of ... consideration."

Suddenly restless, Raziel pushed himself to his feet, pacing over to one of the wide, vaulted windows. "The time of the Hylden is past, and the time of the Ancients is fading, little though I might wish it. There are none who stand before us; no human kings, no armies, no Sarafan. Not yet. This time can be ours to build upon, if we seize it. Not the Empire that was, but something new. Something ... I do not yet have a name for." Without turning, he reached out, touching Anani's mind. _History is relentless, mine own. The actions we take in this time will shape the nature of our future enemies. We cannot eliminate the humans, the Sarafan; to do so would change the shape of our own past. We must build something that Nosgoth has never seen ... an Empire built on more than conquest. An Empire ... that can survive without an Emperor, when the time comes._

"Time? At what time, and under what circumstances, do you think to quit us? Have you foreseen... your demise? Or another evolution? Is this a consequence of the Taint you believe may someday warp us?" In his distress and anger, Anani rose, tense. 

"Calm yourself," Raziel ordered, turning to face him once more. As Anani subsided, he considered his choices. He could give Anani some half-truth, some facile explanation of the future which would neither fully appease his firstborn's anxiety nor answer his questions--or Raziel could grant him the truth. To do so was a very palpable risk; Raziel knew better than most how the truth could be twisted, made to turn awry in the minds of those who possessed it. If Anani took it ill, or worse, attempted to rail against his Sire's fate and endanger the Clan....

Raziel did not want to lose his firstborn; especially not to his own folly.

 _Anani._ Raziel's Whisper was perhaps more cold than he intended, made stern by his own uncertainty. _Thus far, I have told you only a small part of my journeys. If you wish it, I will now tell you of its entirety, and you will know why I speak as I do. If you make this choice, however, what I tell you must never escape your lips or mind, save only with my express permission. Swear this to me, as your Sire and as your Lord--and you shall have your answers._

Anani hesitated a heartbeat, though not over his answer. For Raziel to afford him a choice at all was more than passing strange, for his Lord might simply speak, and then command Anani's silence afterwards, and never need Raziel fear a straying thought or syllable. Was this a game, then? A test? Why? _My lips, my mind, and my word are yours, no less now than ever. But I do so swear. And I would know of your journey._

The tale was long in the telling; the slivered moon had begun its downward progress towards the dawn by the end of it, the fire guttering low in the hearth. Raziel poured more bloodwine from the bottle that he had opened earlier, when it had become evident they would both need it. The Razielim had managed to bring only a few bottles to this time, and the wine was beyond precious because of it. Still, this tale, if no other, required it.

Anani was silent as Raziel spoke, listening intently, though he could not keep his shock hidden as fully as he might have desired. Anani was an old creature, had seen and experienced much, from the most ravaged fields of war to the most esoteric realms of magic. But this unfolding tale, this was...

"You... then you _are_ the Reaver." Anani's whisper was broken with awe, and startled by the sound of his own voice, he reflexively checked the auditory and telepathic wards woven around Raziel's demesne. Both held firm, keyed to his Lord's will. It was not often that Anani was left at utter loss for words, but -- ! He knew not even what to feel. Horror? For Kain had kept the Reaver beside him for over a thousand years, and to be trapped within an inanimate object for such a span of time would be nothing less than enmaddening. Pride? For among all mighty creatures, among all the spawn of Kain and even Kain himself, there was but one being fit to inhabit the blade. Relief? For Raziel was now free of his bonds. "What... was it like?"

"I ... do not remember it all," Raziel admitted. "Only the last of it is clear, once I had made my choice." Lifting the goblet, Raziel took a thoughtful sip. "It is cold. Colder than the farthest mountain reaches of the north. There is ... no awareness of time, no sense of place. As the Reaver, all that remained to me were my memories, an endless, devouring hunger--and Kain." Small wonder his divided and imprisoned soul had gone mad.

Anani started slightly as Raziel refilled his goblet -- so absorbed in the tale had he been, he'd not noticed that Raziel's cup was empty, had not served him as he should have. Anani's own goblet was still half-full, the aroma that rose from it was saturating, rich. It would be centuries before either the vinyards or the human stock were capable of producing wine of this quality. Anani frowned as he worked through the layers of implication behind Raziel's words, searching for avenues of of potential threat.

"What of the beings which may have freed you, and returned you to your natural form? Did they owe unto you a service? Or do they now expect the reverse?" It was possible that Raziel'd had dealings with these creatures before his fall, for there were doings of Kain and his Lieutenants of which Anani was unaware, though not, he thought, many. Did these 'Powers' now hope an additional boon of Raziel?

"The Powers ... are enigmatic creatures, with purposes of their own. For the moment, their purposes and mine coincide in the preservation of Nosgoth," Raziel said carefully. He had not elaborated much upon Haven or the creatures there; how did one describe a world so utterly alien to anything Anani had known? A world where none died, and humans possessed the powers of gods. Humans that offered themselves freely to resident vampires, no less!

"However--even they cannot promise that the Reaver will not await me once my tasks are done," he continued. The Powers had attempted, more than once, to explain how Raziel's fate might be averted. And while Raziel had listened, he had not yet believed that it could be so. Not when all of Kain's machinations and his own had led him inevitably to the same result.

Free will meant little when all roads led to the Reaver.

"This is something you must accept, Anani," Raziel said, leaning forward. His expression was unyielding. "Kain is essential to Nosgoth's survival. The Scion of Balance must be armed with an imbued Reaver, or all we have suffered will be for naught. Regardless of my eventual fate ... put away any thoughts of destroying the blade or otherwise interfering in the shape of things to come." It was indisputably a command, not a request.

The corner of Anani's mouth twisted, the tips of his talons grated as he rubbed them together, unconsciously sharpening their edges. "Kain has had his due of Razielim blood -- and of yours," he growled. "By your own recollection, Kain has already wielded this imbued Reaver. If he has failed to make use of it in good time, and requires your... assistance once more, then it should be for a span, and at a time, of your choosing." In particular, it was clear that any such 'assistance' must be rendered only after Razielim warlocks learned how to duplicate this feat of returning their Lord to his physical flash. If Kain came for them... well. If he came for Raziel, then he would meet the full fury of the Clan. Which made it all the more vital for the Razielim to fortify and reclaim their lost numbers quickly.

"If my future is at all like my past," Raziel replied dryly, "Then it is likely that surrounding events will force my hand, regardless of whether I will it or not. Do not forget, Anani--every action I took, every decision I made, served only to bind me tighter towards my eventual fate." He met Anani's eyes, that inhuman golden gaze so akin to his own. "In that fate, however, I was changed. I was purified, and imbued with all the power of the Ancient forges--and I bestowed that same purification, that power upon Kain once he took up the Reaver blade once more. It has fundamentally changed us both, and I do not think any creature now knows what we might become." This concern Anani would not have fully understood before--now Raziel could only hope that his firstborn understood its implications, especially for any new fledges that Raziel might Sire. "The Clan will change as well, if I succeed in my aims. But such grand designs take time; and I fear the Clan may become a house divided between the old and the new--between those changed and purified by the Reaver's power, and those yet to receive it."

Anani stilled like a snake. Raziel feared that his clan would be incapable of accepting any individuals he purified, any new fledglings he raised? And thus he thought to leave them here, in this soft world. Any fatalistic plan which led to the cleaving apart of clan and lord was unquestionable madness. And what if others learned to what extent Raziel now -- no matter his reasons -- questioned his own issue, and his own substance?

Anani had to know how deep this cancer ran. Even still, something in his chest tightened, like a fist, as he growled. "If you cannot navigate this uncertainty, the clan will find one who can." And Anani would do it himself... if he had to.

For a single endless moment, there was silence. A glowing ember popped within the banked hearth, releasing a tiny shower of sparks upward.

"Ah. Now the heart of the matter becomes clear." The air changed as Raziel spoke--a wind stirring through the vaulted windows, an electric charge prickling over the skin. Yet Raziel's face showed none of the fury one might have expected; instead it was remote, cold. Any illusions of intimacy--whether brought on by the hour or by the bloodwine--were stripped away. Between one moment and the next, Raziel sat in judgment, the sole arbiter of the Clan.

"You believe my forbearance to be weakness." The words were as distinct and hard as flint struck against steel. "My forethought to be indecision. You question my strength, and my resolve." He set his goblet aside, precisely settling it upon the heavy stone of the nearby table. Then he stood.

The electric-shot charge of Raziel's aura was now almost palpable, spilling outward, the first sparks of the wraithblade flickering over his sword-arm. _I honored you; trusted you with my thoughts as I do no other. A burden it now appears you were not ready to bear, if you now believe I could be supplanted._ It appeared Raziel had erred in giving Anani the answers he had sought. It was a potent warning against doing so with any other, if his firstborn could fall so easily to his fears. "You disappoint me, Anani."

Raziel's words were mild; their meaning was not. As a fledgling, to disappoint Raziel was to die. Elders had a modicum more protection from summary execution--but only just, for Raziel rarely suffered his progeny, regardless of rank, to disappoint him more than once.

Anani's back stiffened, his eyes flashed, his affront nearly stronger than his relief. He did not quail before his Sire's manifest fury -- Raziel had taught him better than that -- though he was most certainly affected by it. "Not your strength, no." That much was obvious, for no creature who had seen Raziel's puissance during the Hylden battles could possibly make that assumption. But other Razielim were far less likely to survive their Lord's displeasure than Anani was, should they challenge him as Anani did now... and, eventually, if Raziel meant to construct his emperor-less empire, they surely would. The result would be a declining and demoralized force, bound to a impermanent master mainly by virtue of fear. Anani would not, could not, have that. Not for the Razielim, and not for Raziel. 

Anani reached out to pick up Raziel's goblet, the chitin of his talons clicking against the steel. The bottle was already on the mantlepiece, and he rose -- it almost physically hurt to turn his back, even a fraction, to an elder radiating such cold fury -- and placed the two chalices beside it, where they might survive the worst of the coming storm. It was very good wine, after all. He moved a step away, and faced his coldly furious Sire, his muscles coiling with tension. "Your trials may have taught you a great deal, but in the course of them you have forgotten much too, that you should imagine us content in this honeyed land without you, so diverted that you mayest arrange us to ease your own 'inevitable' absence. That you should think to enumerate your enemies before me, but intend to lead us against none of them."

Anani lifted his hand again, but this time the razored edges were not brandished in supplication. If Raziel truly intended to accept his fate as written; if he meant to keep his Razielim, his fine instruments of the battlefield, rusting in the backwaters of a beautiful world... how were they to withstand it? What was peace to the Razielim anyway? Anani growled lowly, his deliberate snarl exposing the tips of his fangs. "Little wonder that the question of fitness could be raised."

The strike, when it came, was sudden and swift.

The very air crackled with the unleashed telekinetic force, thunder reverberating as the stones of the wall cracked like clay under the force of the impact. Even expecting it, there had been no escape; Anani was flung off his feet before he could do more than flinch from his Sire's outstretched hand. Now, pinned against the wall by that same invisible force, he struggled vainly, cloven feet scrabbling for purchase as he was choked into silence.

"You presume to lecture me?" Raziel paced toward his errant progeny, his outstretched palm limned in blue. His Whisper was frigid steel, slicing into Anani's mind. _Is this what you truly believe of your brethren? Of me? You expect me to cower upon a throne like some aged and venal human king, sending armies to fight battles in my stead? Have I truly raised a Clan fit for nothing more than thuggery?_ His rage was almost palpable--yet, oddly, none of it showed upon his face. There was no snarl, or baring of fangs; only an expression that, in that moment, seemed oddly akin to that of Kain.

 _The Razielim were the lions of the Empire. Kain's swift sword, to wield against any who opposed him. Yet I tell you now--THERE IS NO MORE EMPIRE._ Raziel voice would have reverberated from the walls, had he spoken aloud. _There are no Clans, no Kain! We are their only legacy, in this time or any other. We can no longer rely upon Melchiahim artisans, Turelim engineers, Zephonim spymasters. The Razielim must now encompass all that we lack--we MUST change, or we will fall!_ Raziel's face was barely a hand's-breadth from Anani's own, falcon-amber eyes intent and predatory. _How many of your brethren would now know this land, this future, had they not thrown themselves into the Abyss? Leave the fate of the world to Kain. Leave the Reaver to me. I shall lead you in war and in peace; even perhaps against Kain, in time. But it shall be according to MY will, and not because the Razielim know naught else but dealing in death!_

Anani twisted hard against the telekinetic weave, in mind and in body, the air disturbed by his silent struggles stirring the fine dust of crumbled stone and the hem of Raziel's cape. Within a century of his fledgling, Anani had exceeded his Sire in the command of magical energies. Not so now, for the kinetic shackle Raziel had summoned so easily was extraordinarily fine in weave, the strands gossamer, difficult to grasp. They could be picked apart, perhaps, but... not with any great speed.

 _You shall lead *what*, precisely?_ Anani countered. The impact against the wall and the constriction deprived him of breath, but that was of little consequence, and he did not grasp at his throat as might a younger vampire. He fisted his talons instead in the stone of the wall, mortar and marble alike crumbling in his hands. _A diluted clan of warriors forbidden to fight? A horde of fifth and sixth generation fledglings? Gift us new scions, new lines, that we might have both numbers and the skills to dominate this world. Lead us against the Sarafan, that their genocide might remain stillborn, that our young might have the time and safety to develop talents other than martial. And as for Kain--_

 _So you would kill the Sarafan,_ Raziel Whispered, silken smooth. _Is that what you truly wish? And when you come upon an acolyte that bears the name Raziel--would you slay him as well, in order to save untold numbers your brethren? What of a babe named Anani? Shall we seek him out as well, and slaughter him in the cradle, before his stratagems can impede us?_

He released his telekinetic hold, allowing his captive to drop ungracefully to the ground. Before Anani could rise, Raziel followed him down, forcing the other vampire prone with a leather-clad knee planted firmly in the center of that broad chest. _Kain also once thought to remove an obstacle from his path in such a manner. And once it was done, he found his actions had resulted in the near-extinction of the vampire race. The Clan will have its new blood--but I will choose when and whom I Sire!_

Anani launched into action the moment he was released -- Raziel had always been faster, but Anani was somewhat slenderer, and very dexterous, and his agility sometimes won him advantage even against his Sire -- but one knee gave more than Anani anticipated, an elbow less, a taloned fist not at all, and Anani found himself thrown flat on his back with a gasp as the last of his air was forced from his lungs. His ribcage creaked under the pressure of Raziel's pin -- a human's sternum would have splintered long since. _Has your long view of the world blinded you to the moment? 'Tis more than three thousand years before you will be born, and twice that before I take a breath. There is time enough, here and now, for our flourishing and the growth of our magical abilities, if we have the numbers to grasp it. Your fears of the purification that may be imbued in your spawn are unfounded -- if your issue disappoint you...._ His talons against Raziel's knee for leverage, the gripping edges scoring the leather, boots hiss-scraping against the marble tiles, Anani struggled, a sinuous and muscular writhing to work him out from under Raziel's strength. _...I will kill them myself._

Raziel's impassive mask broke, a rumbling growl escaping from deep in his throat. He leaned downward, until the creaking of Anani's ribs was audible to them both. _You would presume to judge my progeny? Do you now aspire to usurp your Sire?_ For the first time since his return, Raziel believed it possible. Furious at the thought of such a betrayal, he laid a taloned hand over that heaving chest, directly over Anani's unbeating heart. His talons curved inward, gouging through armored skin down to the bone.

Elder vampires were difficult to kill--other than water or fire, beheading was the only sure way. Removing the heart, however, ensured a near-mortal wound, one that could take a great deal of pain and time to heal, and leave the victim helpless before his tormentor.

"Your aspirations may yet prove your undoing," Raziel snarled. "Mine alone is the right of acceptance or execution--and you would do well to remember that!" His eyes narrowed. Anani would require purification, and soon; that much was now evident.

Anani growled soundlessly -- did his Sire think him so arrogant, or so simple? Anani had held the reins of the clan before -- for months at a time during Raziel's evolutions, and then later for over a year, during his sojourn. Anani knew all too well that he had not the strength to hold the clan together under truly turbulant conditions, to keep splinter groups from pursuing their own revenge. He had been over-cautious -- much as Raziel now was over-cautious. _Of course not! At your word would I assist. If you were concerned that the Razielim might become a house div…_

And then Raziel's edged hand closed on him, drawing rents that seeped deep purple vitae. Anani's struggles ceased immediately, his palm fell away from Raziel's knee, though he shivered with the effort to contain his own agonized writhing as Raziel's talons cut inward with brutal strength, chitin grating upon bone. He knew what wound his Lord threatened, had suffered it before, when he had pushed too hard, too far. He'd known that he risked this when he'd entered the chamber intent on speaking of his concerns -- had known he risked still worse when he'd made to test Raziel's resolve. His every instinct was to flinch from the proof of his Sire's displeasure, to beg leniency. And yet, in the end, he could not -- not without being certain Raziel understood. Anani's Whisper was colored bloody by his pain. _Your clan witnesses your hesitation. And they will begin to fear._

Rage and regret were coiled tight in Raziel’s chest. It was difficult not to succumb to the urge to sink his talons deeper, to splinter past bone and sinew until he had Anani's heart crushed in his grip. _Are you certain, my firstborn, that you speak of the Clan's fear, and not your own?_ For all his trials, Raziel did not believe he had changed in any fundamental fashion--he was as he had always been. If that was not enough for Anani .... _You speak of hesitation and doubt. I speak of strategy and battles carefully chosen. Which, then, is the Clan to believe?_ He paused. _Which will *you* choose to believe?_


	2. Chapter 2

Anani could not keep himself from throwing back his head as the talons in his flesh tightened infinitesimally, and something gave with a sharp crack -- not within Anani's body, but rather beneath, one of the thick marble tiles that covered the floor fracturing under the pressure placed upon it. But tearing his gaze from Raziel made the pain worse, gave him nothing to cling to, and he firmed his control, brought his eyes back to his Sire's. Needing... needing closer contact, seeking refuge in his source, Anani lifted his hand, reaching to cup his talons over Raziel's free shoulder, as if to keep his Sire forever close to his Razielim. _A strategy that costs the Clan that which it holds most dear is no strategy at all. This is my certainty._

His patience already frayed to the point of breaking , Raziel found himself little inclined to coddle his firstborn's fears. If his long and convoluted journey had taught him anything, it was that nothing was certain--neither death, nor life, nor anything in between. But if he said as much to Anani, instilled with the ideals of an Empire meant to last forever, would it be taken as yet further evidence of his supposed weakness?

 _The only certainty I care to entertain is the knowledge of the fate the Razielim have thus far avoided. Unless, of course, you would have preferred a certain extinction over these fears of an uncertain future,_ Raziel growled. _Enough of your mawkish doubts! Twice now I have asked where your allegiance lies, and you have answered me not. I will give you no blithe assurances, no protestations of strength. Either you stand at my right hand--or you will die by it. What is it to be?_

He knew his firstborn better than any other. If Anani truly believed him to be weak--regardless of his answer, Raziel would see the truth behind it.

What madness lay in amorphous concerns, nebulous apprehensions, when Anani knew already his place, his purpose? If nothing else, the pain clarified that, crystallized it. But it was not his place to chose life, if it pleased his Sire otherwise. With a force of will, Anani slid his hand down to where Raziel's talons were buried in his flesh. Struggling to contain his shuddering, he carefully laced his talons between his Sire's, opening anew the places where muscle tried vainly to heal around the intrusion. _My heart... has never been anywhere but in its Master's hand._

A new silence descended--a pause pregnant with the promise of judgment. Raziel searched the mind that had touched his, the face he knew as well as his own, for any hint of hesitation, of deceit ...

... and found none.

Something within him--a knotted anticipation of betrayal, perhaps--loosened slightly. In silence, Raziel lifted their now-intertwined talons from Anani's wounded flesh, watching as the deep gashes began to seal themselves with inhuman speed. _As it should be,_ he affirmed, shifting so that Anani was still pinned by his Sire's strength--but in a singularly less painful fashion.

Anani relaxed by fractions as Raziel's weight left him, waiting quietly while his wound closed from the inside out, covering first bone, then sinew, layers of muscle stitching themselves together beneath spilled vitae. He kept his grip tight on Raziel as pain faded into the infuriating itching of healing. For now, he simply rested, letting his nature take its course, restoring him rapidly to strength. After a few moments, Anani drew a breath, found his lungs clear of blood: even in his anger, Raziel had not damaged more than what he meant to. A small attempt at movement served to prove that he was still restrained, and Anani looked to his Lord, gaze open, anticipative. He knew Raziel too well to imagine his fury spent so easily.

Raziel sat back upon his heels, his expression cool and considering. "Did you know, Anani, that in that other world, there is a boy-prince who has become my sworn vassal? Who had the temerity to beg me for the honor of becoming a vampire?" Dio, his beautiful lunatic.

"I am alone in that world. Most of the creatures interred there know nothing of what a vampire is. He is strong and beautiful, clever and bloodthirsty ... and yet, despite his pleas--I refused." He paused, waiting to see what Anani would make of his tale.

Anani's brow furrowed a moment, but when it became apparent that Raziel wished an answer, he spoke. "You wished to await his maturity?" he asked. While the Zephonim had their share of child-spies, no doubt in part due to the predelictions of their clanlord, most other clans avoided turning humans before their physical adulthood.

And… Anani knew well that fledglings required a great deal of time and attention. If Raziel feared that he would return to the Reaver very soon, then… could he turn his Sire’s mind from such contemplations? "Shall I have a contingent sent to retrieve him?" Anani asked, thinking on how that could be accomplished... and on the opportunities possible in a world that knew nothing of his kind.

Raziel arched his eyebrows at Anani's offer. He doubted the Powers would look kindly upon a contingent of Razielim invading their Haven and making off with a Chosen, even if said Chosen was willing. The thought amused him, though he did not show it.

"No. It is better he remain there for now. You are correct, in part--he is overly young, not yet fully into his adult strength." Which was likely to be greater by far than that of an ordinary Nosgothian peasant, given the boy's origins. "He is also more than a little mad. His madness is such that it may be ... ameliorated with time, perhaps, but it is undeniable."

Raziel continued, his words carefully measured. "All of these things are worth consideration, yet ultimately they did not matter. For even though I lived again, my Razielim, everything I had wrought, was still dust. You and your brethren had been discarded, forgotten as if you had never existed; and it was that knowledge that drove me to swear that I would Sire no others."

Anani tilted his head. "To whom were we forgotten? Though you found us not in the future, we your Razielim were merely... misplaced, not vanished. You have fought at our front for neigh a year, and know we are not dust. Circumstances have changed."

"Little though you may credit it, I am capable of perceiving what is put before me," Raziel said dryly, his words a subtle warning.

Anani's words were the truth, as the younger vampire understood it. Yet Raziel knew it had been only chance that had freed him from the Reaver, chance that the Powers had allowed him to return to Nosgoth, and chance that any of his Razielim even remained for him to rescue. For Raziel was the only creature on Nosgoth that possessed free will--and none of his choices were foreordained. A different twist of circumstance, of fate, a different choice ... and he would have mourned his Clan in truth instead of ignorance.

"It is true that my vow no longer has any substance," he continued, trailing talons idly down the bared flesh of Anani's side, letting the tips trace delicately over the ripples of muscle and bone. "Yet the knowledge of what could have been remains. We must not only preserve what remains like a fly in amber, but ensure that the Razielim are tempered and made stronger by their trials. Each new line must be cleaved to the whole, to aid in that forging, until the Clan is such a blade that what I once believed will never come to pass."

Anani shivered, a faint twitching of skin, as Raziel's talons passed over him, the still-sticky blood caught in the grooves of his hands tacky and chill against even armored skin. He could not keep from arching himself, pressing a little more firmly into that touch. The fact that the same talons had been so recently used to harm -- the fact that they might again be so employed, and soon -- troubled Anani not at all; it was both to be expected and inconsequential. He swallowed back a frustrated growl, one not entirely due to the idle caress. "Was there aught amiss with the humans brought unto you? They may not be of the refined breeds, but all were courageous and strong. Some of them possessed talents much in need."

Raziel's eyes narrowed, a low growl escaping his throat. Anani's mind seemed to have only a single track .... "Am I a prize bull, then, to mount whatever cow you deem fit to parade in front of me?" he snarled, leaning forward. It had often been Anani's privilege--and his duty--to present prospective candidates from the herds for his Lord's consideration. But his firstborn seemed to have forgotten that he did so at Raziel's command, and not his own.

"Time to tighten your leash, my overambitious wolf," Raziel growled, his fangs grazing the vulnerable arch of Anani's throat, his talons cutting deep into those muscled sides. "For you seem to have forgotten who your master truly is."

He bit down--a bite not intended to arouse so much as punish, letting his fangs cut deep into that vulnerable flesh, purplish blood bubbling up over his tongue, heady and potent. All it would take was one savage twist to tear out the younger vampire's throat in truth ...

Anani growled as those long eyeteeth found his throat, sank in, a familiar pain for all its sharpness. He tilted his head back, into the correction, baring his throat further and feeling the ivory points shift within his flesh. The iron of his boot struck hissing sparks against the occluded marble as he drew one leg up, twisting a little under Raziel's cutting talons, though whether in a frustrated effort to writhe away or with a tainted, darksome pleasure, even Anani could not say.

Air passages compressed between the tips of Raziel's fangs, Anani did not try to speak. But though mute, he was not blind, and read more into Raziel's reticence to answer than any other might. _You must have found your sport with these mortals much to your liking._

 _Do you fear you have been supplanted, mine own?_ At any other time, the question might have been indulgent or amused. But Raziel's anger was not so easily put aside. Wings unfurled slightly, as if to mantle over his prey, and Raziel let the slow, thick slide of Anani's blood trickle over his tongue, savoring the taste of his firstborn. His Whisper was a growling rumble, thrumming against the younger vampire's very bones. _Your jealousy does not befit a warrior; nor does the expectation that I must justify my diversions to you!_

Raziel knew better than to make the mistake of speaking of what he had found in Haven; the unexpected affection, the consolation with which he had been gifted, however briefly, in the touch of a kindred spirit. Such a thing would have been unfathomable to Anani, and undoubtedly taken as further evidence of his Sire's weakness. Far better to leave such memories inviolate, secret and safe.

Anani snorted softly, a strangled sound that did a poor job of conveying either ire or irony, but was kindled in both. His own Whisper was very nearly his Sire's match in intensity, and he checked again the wards around the room, and spent a fraction of energy to reinforce one that showed hints of buckling. It would little serve either himself or Raziel if traces of their present... altercation were to evidence themselves outside this room. _Like a madman, you propose to leave your clan *masterless*, and think me now consumed with womanish hand-wringing over mortals?_ But he shivered, a fine trembling over his skin, as Raziel swallowed, and his talons tightened on his Sire's in a grip that would have shattered the fine bones of a human's fist.

Raziel's fangs slid deeper, his temper kindling further at the insult. _You would prefer I ignore the perils before us? To blithely assume my continued freedom from the Reaver, and the Clan's survival, as I once did? You have seen what such blindness has cost us, Anani!_ Sharp-edged claws slid against his own as Anani arched reflexively away from his grip, and Raziel let more of his weight settle possessively upon the younger vampire. _If Haven has taught me anything, it is how uniquely unsuited I am to be anything other than what I was created to be; the Soul Reaver, Kain's First Lieutenant ... and Lord of the Razielim, for howsoever long it is possible. No mortal, no matter how extraordinary, will ever change that._

Whether he could continue to be all those things at once ... that remained to be seen.

"Poss--nngh --" Anani's gasp of negation was all but soundless. The talon-edges of his free hand ghosted, scraped across Raziel's shoulder, prickled against the elder vampire's scalp, the back of his neck. _Your potencies are many, but I knew not that the power of prophecy was among them. What omission, what blindness was there, in failing to plan for the unthinkable? Nay then, choose the Reaver, if it so suits you, if you deem it necessary for a time. But leave us not behind, like babes in the nursery. Let us seek out the magics these 'Powers' employed to return to you your rightful form. Reveal to your clan the true origins of the Reaver, when the time is right. And then, if you need must return to Kain…_ Anani's jaw clenched in his anger, and his talons tightened in Raziel's hair as his flesh opened anew under the deeply buried points, though he made no effort to struggle away from the chastisement. _...you shall not go alone._

Anani's words struck like a spear-thrust to the heart--and Raziel stilled.

For several long moments he did not move or speak. Then, with aching care, he loosened his grip, withdrawing fangs from Anani's throat.

Raziel laid lips to the healing wound, tasting the last drops of blood before the gashes sealed shut. "It seems that you have become my conscience," he murmured against that ivory skin. He did not offer any apology for his anger; nor would Anani expect any. Unlike Kain's subtle and capricious temper, Raziel's furies were swift and potent--but they also left few doubts as to when the storm had passed.

"You plead your cause with a silver tongue," Raziel continued, lifting his head to look soberly upon his firstborn. "Though your methods of ... diplomacy leave something to be desired, mine own." Insulting and challenging his Sire so--Anani was lucky indeed to have escaped relatively unscathed!

Anani exhaled slowly, and turned his head away, baring his skin for Raziel's tongue as surely as he had for Raziel's fangs. Was it possible that Raziel had never considered sending his clan to accompany the Reaver when Raziel returned to it, to watch over the blade and Kain both, to draw Raziel free when the task was done? Perhaps it was -- his Sire's journeys had been both very long... and very solitary. "Do they, Sire? Surely they have grown rusty, then, for lack of practice...."

Anani returned his Lord's sober gaze, and upon a very finely directed thread, well-shielded beneath the room's powerful wards, he Whispered. _Then... the Neocount, Mer Tarrant, hails from this ‘Haven.’ Might he know something of the means of your revival? Shall we take him hostage?_

Raziel's mouth quirked in a sardonic smile. _As tempting as such a stratagem might be, it would be ... ill-advised, to say the least._ Ducking his head, he dragged his mouth down to the softer flesh at the hollow of Anani's throat. _He is a vampire, however, and thus might have a certain degree more ... sympathy …_ if such a word could ever be applied to the Neocount, _... than the others to creatures such as ourselves. It is a slim chance, but it may be in our interests to keep him amenable …_

"M -- ah!" Raziel's movement pressed his lips into the hollow of Anani's throat, a soft nuzzle, the slow and teasing baring of long eyeteeth, slick and firm against his skin. His Sire knew Anani's every response, his tenderest places, and could have him wound between his talons between one breath and the next. Thinking abruptly became a challenge. Anani's brow furrowed as he endeavored to rise to it. 

_Mer Tarrant has been provided the hospitality due one of your brethren. But, with your approval, we may be able to do... better._ They could perform the duties that Tarrant's fledglings should have done, could treat him as they did Raziel himself, could pre-select and deliver the finest of the stock, cleaning and preparing them beforehand. _He ha -- has abecedary leanings; shall we encourage him to take... to take apprentices?_ The Razielim were not oversupplied with bright, talented young warlocks, but there were some. As to how much those promising clansmen were risked by close association with Tarrant....

 _As to the first--do so,_ Raziel agreed. _Such deference can only sweeten his temper. As to the second …_ It was a tempting idea--very tempting. If Razielim mages could learn even some small degree of Tarrant's magic .... _I shall think upon the second. Tarrant's magic is inextricably twined with madness, from what I have seen--and we have too few mage-talented fledges to risk losing them at this point._ Perhaps later, when their numbers had grown ... he paused, and shook his head. How easily he had fallen into the trap of Anani's assumptions! 

Leaving the thoughts of future fledges and the clan aside for the moment, he dragged an open-mouthed kiss over the join of Anani's neck and shoulder, sinking fangs into his firstborn's armored skin. The bites were small, superficial and quickly healed--but any fleeting pain were quickly transmuted into pleasure by an elder's armored skin. _I shall converse with Tarrant myself,_ he continued, sliding talons under the clasps of Anani's armor. _Magic may not be the only thing we can gain from him ..._

Anani twisted languorously under his Sire's attention, stroking his talons carefully over Raziel's bound hair, mutely pleading for more. Yet despite the distraction, Anani followed the track of his Sire's hesitation over the Razielim’s small numbers of fledgling mages, just as a strong wolf might sense minute nuances in its pack-master's hesitation. _Permit me leave to summon a gifted bloodslave, my Lord,_ Anani Whispered. Anani coiled slowly under Raziel's weight, twisting for better leverage against the cracked marble floor -- a sudden move, cleverly executed, might reverse their positions, gain Anani the advantage....

Raziel's answering growl came from deep within his chest, vibrating against Anani's armored skin. In that sound was arousal, a hint of amusement ... but also a very potent warning, tinged with anger. Anani had pushed the limits of his Sire's indulgence; and any new mention of fledglings was likely to get him banished entirely.

Layers of armor fell away, stripped by deft and practiced talons, and Raziel laid possessive claim to the skin thus bared, still growling as he sank his teeth deeper--this time over one flat nipple. Even such delicate skin was far tougher than that of a human, but it still retained a greater sensitivity, even so. Anani gasped, and arched--and Raziel pinned him flat to the ground with absent-minded strength. A taloned hand upon one thigh, Raziel straddled the other, one leather-clad thigh pushing upward, rubbing against Anani's hardening flesh. It was a position that allowed for a great deal of possibilities, and at the same time allowed only the smallest of movements, Raziel mastering his firstborn utterly. 

"A - ah!" Anani's gasp was sharp, his talons sharper as he clasped spasmodically the back of Raziel's neck, the breadth of his shoulders, searching for purchase as pain and pleasure both rocked him. His efforts to twist upwards -- into the bites, into the bliss -- further splintered the tiles beneath him but moved Raziel not at all. One hand still trapped by Raziel's interlacing claws, hips pinned, Anani could scarcely even writhe beneath the careful, knowledgeable torment. There was something in this very primal dominion that unwound a hard-balled knot of anxiety that had settled far too long: a narcotic relaxing, an acceptance. _P--please... ah, so good…_ The thick-corded muscles of Anani's belly tensed as he arched up, as much as he was permitted, his talons scraping at Raziel's shoulder as he tried to capture that sharp-fanged mouth with his own. _Please -- ah, Master!_

Dark lips curved upwards as Raziel watched his firstborn writhe, beautiful in his need. He granted a fleeting kiss, savage and brief, fangs cutting into those soft lips. Then he ducked his head, and continued his ministrations, biting and licking at the heaving muscles of Anani's corded abdomen. _You beg so prettily, my Anani, came his dark Whisper. Your words ... sweet as honey over steel ... tell me what you desire, what you need …_ Purring low in his throat, he arched into the taloned fingers clinging to his back, releasing Anani's other wrist to reach up and caress that taut and tempting throat.

Anani luxuriated in that kiss, yielding under Raziel, opening for it, tasting the flat metal tang of spent rage and the sharp cusp of unworldly power -- and over them both the wine, complex and sweet. The contact was far too brief, and as Raziel reared back, Anani followed him, mouthing at the line of his jaw, nuzzling the silken edge of Raziel's robe aside to press edged kisses over his shoulder, the skin there smoother than the fabric, still faintly warmed with feeding. He left traces of his own blood, from bitten mouth, behind -- a stain upon high-white skin. _If... if my tongue be silvered, yet has lacked in discretion --_ his breath was a rough indrawn hiss as Raziel nipped at the point of his ear, the pain giving rise to a far more maddening one as he quickened further against the tight leather of his breeches -- _then cannot it be put to nobler use?_

The thought of that, of the satin-rough pad of his tongue upon flesh slicked and sweet, was compelling, and as Raziel seemed to pause, consider, Anani struggled against his Lord's grasp, too roused and impatient for fine wordplay. _P-please, let me suck your cock, master._

A shiver prickled down the surface of Raziel's flesh at Anani's words. "Yes," he growled, lifting his head to give Anani another fierce kiss before pulling himself upward, releasing the other vampire from his imprisoning grip. "To have that nimble tongue exercised upon my flesh seems a quite fitting purpose ..." Leaning backward to allow his firstborn access, he made no move to unlace the heavy leather of his breeches, now drawn painfully tight over his burgeoning flesh. To have Anani minister to him thus was a heady draught indeed--a potent mix of trust in having another's razored talons so close to his flesh and his firstborn's own submission in the task. 

Raziel's own hands smoothed upward, curling about that bowed neck, taloned fingers threading into pale-golden strands. But he did not force Anani downward. Not yet.

Anani purred a sound of pleasure as the edges of Raziel's talons stroked through his hair, the serrated edges prickling, scraping against his scalp. He indulged his own hands, his palms ghosting down Raziel's sides, over the hard planes of his ribs, the lean strength of his flanks. But talons transmitted but faint sensation, and Anani could not help but move closer, lean in, press his lips to the place just over Raziel's sternum, feeling the silken surface and the unbeating flow beneath. 

He kissed down, following the flat planes of Raziel's stomach, letting the cool curves of eyeteeth just touch, lightly, as if in ivory reminder of where else those fangs would press. He bent lower, seeking more skin -- and encountered the tough waist of the leather trousers. Rumbling, Anani found the laces, and, with lips and teeth and nimble tongue, drew apart the knot. Grasping one thick leather plait between his incisors, his hands tight on Raziel's hips, Anani began to draw it free of the first eyelet. 

Fine tremors rippled over his flesh at each touch of lips and teeth, each infrequent and careful breath over skin. Raziel growled lowly--but in pleasure, not in warning--taloned fingers stroking though his firstborn's hair, down the elegant curve of neck and spine. Even bowed before him, Anani was perfect; submission without cowardice, a fierce pride without arrogance. A warrior born, clean-limbed and strong. 

The leather lacing loosened, his erection surging forward, questing for freedom from its bondage--and Raziel arched, gasping, as Anani's lips grazed fleetingly over that first sliver of exposed flesh. 

The proof of his Sire's enjoyment, the approval sensed in touch and sound and the kinship of mind they shared, brought a curve to Anani's lips. One last tug, and the cord fell away to puddle between them, and Anani nosed into the gape in the leather, and touched skin far more silken than dragonhide. Hands still on Raziel's hips, he paused there, inhaled, and under the hints of leather and soap -- a novel scent, for no vampire save his Lord might bathe in water, and soap was of no use in alcohol -- he could taste Raziel, could taste air and darkness and stolen heat. 

Bending lower, Anani nuzzled the leather aside just enough to permit Raziel's cock liberation. He pressed his lips there, at the thick base, and feathered teasing kisses up the length, paying particular attention to the subtle terrain of crossing veins, the first faint hints of forming plating beneath the surface, luxuriating in the sensations his talons were too armored to feel. He reached the tip, and there withdrew just a little, that he might better watch Raziel's reaction. His exhaled breath ghosted over the moisture that slicked the head, and then he leaned forward, and pressed his first open-mouthed kiss against the dusk-dark corona, his teeth parting for it, lips pressing back the foreskin, his tongue dancing over the fine, faint slit, the most hidden and sensitive places. 

The feel of those darkened lips finally touching his aching flesh was almost too much--and at the same time, too little. Raziel closed his eyes, giving himself over to the sensations that Anani was wringing so skillfully from his needy cock with each wet, open-mouthed kiss. That slick tongue was designed to drive him mad, he was certain, as it probed at the sensitive slit, exploring. It was night-impossible to stifle his instinctive thrusts, that blind seeking for *more*, and it took Anani's hands upon his hips in addition to what remained of his control to restrain himself to the tiny, abortive movements he could not quite help.

Taloned hands stroked over that bent head, tangled in strands of golden hair, smoothed down the muscled, indented line of Anani's spine. Raziel stifled a groan as that mouth slipped deeper, enveloping more of his flesh. "You shall drive me mad, mine own ..."

Anani's low hum of amusement was a vibrating rumble as, shielding his fangs as well as he could, he swallowed deeper, feeling the head of Raziel's cock press into his throat. _But is that not... mmn, not a scion's obligation, Sire?_ His tongue caressed the underside of the shaft instead -- the divot just under the head, the fine tracery of veins, tasting the talc-silken skin there. That touch was fine counterpoint to the ivory solidity of his eyeteeth -- for though Anani moved carefully, Raziel's flesh still rubbed against his fangs on either side, just one ill-timed movement from the sharp points.

With a last rough-edged stroke, Anani released Raziel's hip with one hand, and brought his talons lower. Its cutting edges undercurved, the back of one talon passed slowly down the still-exposed part of his Sire's cock. The back of his hand was somewhat rough, nubbly like shark's-hide, a prickling texture against Raziel's organ.

__Raziel arched upward with a gasp, caught between heaven and hell, the careful stroking of those deadly talons almost too much. His incautious movement caused Anani's fangs to slip, cutting inward--he shuddered, stilling with an effort of will, even as the red sparks of agony flared and died, transmuting into pleasure once more. Ecstasy and agony were close cousins indeed for a vampire--especially one that had survived Kain's ... tutelage. Anani shifted, sending a wordless impression of apology, and lapped carefully at the tiny vanishing wounds, his tongue curling about the heavy flesh until no trace of blood remained._ _

__Raziel was not sure how long he could withstand this sweet torment, and the temptation was there to simply push Anani backwards and take his own satisfaction. But it had been a long time since either of them had found time for such slow, languid amusements ... almost as long as it had been since any creature had devoted himself so wholly to Raziel's pleasure._ _

__Anani remained still a moment as the scrapes faded rapidly, the taste of blood giving way swiftly to the texture of raw flesh, and then to whole skin. He relaxed only as it became apparent that his prize was not to be withdrawn -- for being permitted this was a prize and a pleasure indeed, -- and resettled his hand on Raziel's hip, shifted position a little, the better to be able to move if Raziel did. And then, as his tongue returned to stroke a lazy swirl of runes across the underside of Raziel's shaft, Anani nosed forward, inhaling sharply as he did, so that the head as it pressed into his throat was bathed in an unexpected current of air and then abruptly enclosed in a wet and muscular grasp. There was no stuttering compression of a gag reflex, for any that remained to Anani had long since been mastered, only smooth rippling as Anani swallowed around the intrusion. His lips kissed the base of Raziel's cock, the cool ivory of his fangs to either side, his tongue bathing and flicking the sensitive places beneath. Suckling now, the seal of his mouth tight, Anani moved back a little, relishing the silken glide, then pressed back again eagerly, feeling the broad head of Raziel's cock reclaim its place deep in his throat._ _

__Raziel groaned, a guttural and fervent sound. Thought and worry had slipped away, to be replaced only with the slick slide of his flesh over that tongue, pressing deep into the confines of Anani's throat. Withdrawing, only slightly, enough to feel a wisp of cooler air curling about achingly sensitive skin--then Anani surged forward, taking him in once more as if he would swallow Raziel whole._ _

__Even Raziel's control was not proof against such skill. His eyes slipped shut, and when Anani moved to pull backwards once more, Raziel's hand was there, taloned fingers curling about his neck. Pulling him forward so that Raziel could thrust, unheeding of the threat of fangs, fucking Anani's mouth, pushing deep into his throat. Reclaiming, taking what was his._ _

__Anani's gasp was a choked sound, cut off hard, but the talons gripping the back of his head kept him steady, kept him still for the slick thrusting, and he was too well-trained in this to miss the rhythm for more than an instant. His throat was a tight sheath around the bruising length of his Sire's cock, he swallowed convulsively, open, taking it, his lips a slick hold, his tongue -- whenever Raziel permitted the slightest pause -- caressing, flicking, a constant driving torment. Anani groaned, a harsh rumble of pain but not of protest, as a hard thrust opened him yet deeper, and the vibration of the sound was its own pleasure around Raziel's flesh. Unbidden and unnoticed -- at least by the younger vampire -- Anani shifted his weight, canted his hips to press himself against the maddeningly tight confines of his breeches._ _

__Lost in his own rising pleasure, the sweet torment of slick tongue and the tightness of Anani's throat, Raziel had little attention to spare for his firstborn's own frustrated need. A hard pull, the flicker of a tongue as he withdrew, only to thrust deep into that slick heat once more--even the occasional agonizing scrape of fang as Raziel's movements became less cautious served as nothing more than counterpoint to the rising crescendo of his own pleasure._ _

__Knowing with the instinct of long practice just how close Raziel was, Anani took care to tease the pleasure out, to drive it to greater heights -- pressing his lips tightly against the base of his lord's organ when he paused, sucking firmly and then more lightly, humming a delicious vibration when the head of Raziel's cock pressed deep into his throat, his tongue never still._ _

__Raziel's control, honed over centuries, was formidable. But it was not infinite; and Anani likewise had, over the centuries, come to learn his lord's body well._ _

__The building wave of his pleasure was inevitable, drawn forth with each subtle vibration, each tiny lick until he could hold on no longer. Held taut as a drawn bow, he came with a guttural cry, thrusting deep into Anani's throat, slick muscle rippling as it swallowed around his cock. He retained enough thought not to permit his talons to gouge into Anani's flesh, but his hands left no room for the younger vampire to withdraw, forcing Anani to remain until every last drop of pleasure had been wrung from those skilled lips._ _

__The wet clench of Anani's throat remained close around him as he came, the involuntary convulsions as Anani swallowed a further spur to pleasure and completion. Even as Raziel's grip loosened, slowly, Anani made no effort to withdraw. Gentle, infinitely careful with overstimulated flesh, the younger vampire suckled and laved, cleaning away every last trace of musky-metallic semen as Raziel gradually softened. At last, pressing a light kiss to the tip of his lord's cock, Anani passed his tongue over the pale organ in a last, lingering caress, and then with lips and nose eased Raziel's flesh under the cover of the tough dragonhide. The breeches, the front placket hooked closed but not laced, were not excessively confining, but would keep too-sensitive flesh from being inadvertently touched or bruised whilst Raziel recovered. Anani pressed his mouth over the leather carefully, delicately, a slick-lipped kiss, and moved, mouthing now at the base of Raziel's belly, eyeteeth scraping lightly over armored muscle. Slowly, teasingly, he moved up, palms stroking Raziel's sides, nibbling at the thickened muscle across Raziel's chest, breathing over the places his tongue touched -- and shifted as he unbent, to straddle Raziel's leather-clad thigh. The additional pressure against his own trapped cock was torment and aching sweetness both...._ _

__Slowly, the haze of pleasure that had fogged his senses faded, returning Raziel to himself. Iron-hard hands settled upon Anani's hips, stroking briefly as the younger vampire rubbed his aching flesh against the hard muscle of Raziel's leg--then tightened, holding Anani immobile with a strength the frustrated vampire could not hope to match._ _

__"You seem ... overeager, my own," Raziel purred--and if there was an echo of Kain in those words, it was only to be expected. This would not be the first time Raziel had put to use what he had learned from his Sire. The bedchamber was just another battlefield, after all._ _

__Anani's hands stilled. His gasp was sharp, drawn from him not so much by the grip of Raziel's talons, but by the edge to his voice, that familiar and subtle satisfaction._ _

__It only made Anani harder._ _

__"So I am," Anani murmured, his lips cool on his Lord's skin, "but can you fault me? The taste of you...." metallic and sparking with power, every bit as much as Raziel's blood, a heat that lingered in the mouth -- Anani nibbled a biting kiss against the heavy curve of collar bone, tonguing the softer hollow underneath. Kissing or touching Raziel's throat would have been a daring gesture under the circumstances, and Anani avoided it, seeking instead the line of Raziel's jaw and nuzzling there, supplicative. "Shall I plead your attentions, Master?"_ _

__"Hmm ..." Raziel allowed the caress, eyes still heavy-lidded in pleasant languor. "And what pleas would you make, Anani, that would outweigh my pleasure in seeing you suffer so sweetly?" A night or two of frustration would make his firstborn only more ardent ... and more desperate for Raziel to allow him release. There was also a certain pleasure to be had in watching Anani's obedience, even in the face of such temptation ..._ _

__No, his firstborn's pleas for release would have to be clever indeed for Raziel to give up such gratification._ _

__Anani shivered, a fine and involuntary frission across his skin, muscles twitching against the stony grip at his hips. He knew this particular game quite well -- the greatest challenge was deciding which outcome he preferred. Both had allure..._ _

__"I... p-please. My Lord, strip me of these bindings, pin me over -- over the low table, there, my back bared before you, my cock trapped and pressed down upon that unyielding stone edge. I-- I would scatter the tablets to the floor with my struggles, your knees wedging mine open as you cover me. Would it please you, Master, to find me already slicked for you? Yet clenched so tight -- just as you like it. It would take, ah, take you a moment to mount me, and I would cry out, before the sensation of being filled takes my breath away. A-and you would fuck me so hard, every thrust driving me against that stone edge, so that I could not help but writhe against you, every withdrawal leaving me yearning, empty, aching, so that I would push back helplessly, begging for it even as I resisted..."_ _

__Raziel listened, enjoying the subtle pleading desperation in his firstborn's words, as well as the beautiful obscenities Anani had used to further his case. Deciding to torment the younger vampire a bit further, he pulled Anani downward, roughly rubbing his thigh up against that aching and confined erection. One hand released its grip, to slide around to the front of Anani's breeches and palm the bulge found there. Razor-sharp points slid downward, cupping his firstborn's confined cock hard enough to cut into the heavy leather--but not to release it._ _

__"Such a pretty tale, my Anani," Raziel purred. "You have learned to please me well, it is true ..." And yet, it would not do to allow Anani to become too complacent, confident in his ability to manipulate his lord. His grip shifted, sharpened points cutting inward, piercing leather, until they pressed against the delicate flesh of Anani's balls. "Yet I think you would benefit from a measure of ... uncertainty."_ _

__Anani gasped, gritted his teeth against the frustrated, needy sounds that threatened to escape his throat. For if he gave them voice, he knew he'd not be able to keep from rocking against that cruelly pleasureable grip on his most vulnerable flesh, and then -- then -- thought fled like snow in sunlight, each vanishingly light brush of those deadly clawtips like a blast of summer heat. He shivered, swallowed hard. "Uncer -- uh! I... my Master is most kind, far too kind, to hold my benefit so highly in -- hahh!" a slightly harder touch, a dangerous prickling, "so highly in his consideration. But sh--should my Master not consider his own benefit? His own pleasure, so... so ripe, and before him for the taking?"_ _

__"Hmmm ..." Raziel's eyes were dark with enjoyment as he felt Anani shudder and writhe against him. "I am not certain I agree, mine own." Taloned fingers squeezed, shredding the heavy leather further until Raziel could heft the soft balls in his palm, squeezing them slightly, as if to verify the authenticity of Anani's desire. "No ... it seems to me that these are not yet ripe--not yet." So pale and wanton, and flushed with need--yet even Anani's delectable flesh could be spiced further with anticipation._ _

__Raziel let his talon tips dig in slightly, just enough to barely score the achingly sensitive perineum and anoint his prize with the scent of blood. "Thus I think I shall give you a new duty, my Anani. To bind these well, and guard them against any touch, including your own."_ _

__He shifted his grip, curling taloned fingers now about Anani's aching shaft, gripping brutally tight, ignoring the pearling fluid smeared over the tip, evidence of his firstborn's need. "Such fruits need a certain amount of time to ripen, before they can become worthy of my consideration," he purred, ignoring Anani's gasp. "Do you not agree?"_ _

__"Nnngh..." Anani gulped against negation and protest both. The feel of Raziel's razor-edged talons *there* stretched his limits the way little else could -- and how well Raziel knew it. Anani hips jerked of their own accord, trying to draw him away from the cutting contact, then into the cruelly tight clasp around his cock; still half-pinned by Raziel's free hand, the movements served only to press him against his Lord's stronger frame. "I... How -- " how long, he nearly asked, but bit at his tongue as he understood more sharply the meaning of 'uncertainty'. Anani's own talons clenched at Raziel's shoulders. He pressed his lips to the cool skin there, and exhaled, searching out a bare sliver of control. "H-how shall I do it, Master?"_ _

__Raziel raised an eyebrow. "Must I instruct you, even in this?" Reaching down between them, he drew free one of the dangling laces that had previously held his own breeches closed, the back of his hand brushing against Anani's achingly erect flesh. From there, he took that erection in hand, cradling it in a deceptively gentle grip--and with only a few twists of leather, had bound both shaft and balls most thoroughly, tugging the strap painfully tight._ _

__His talons were adept enough for this, at least, but not for the knots necessary to ensure the leather would not loosen. Contenting himself with a simple folding over of the loose ends, Raziel surveyed his handiwork with a certain amount of satisfaction. "That shall suffice for the moment, I think. I give you leave to have one other touch you--you may call a fledge once, and only once, in order to finish your bindings." It was a pleasant thought, the image of Anani standing erect and unsatisfied, whilst a younger vampire was forced to kneel in order to ensure he remained so ...._ _

__Anani's glazed eyes widened as Raziel's hand fell upon the plain leather binding. No jeweled toy this, no adornment by which to advertise a fledgling's place in his Sire's regard. It recalled to mind a time long past, when the entirety of the empire was naught but a handful of boltholes high in the mountains, when moments of peace were rare between fleeing and fighting, when obedience had been as natural and essential as breathing once had been. Through the thick opiod haze of submission, Anani arched backwards, facilitating the binding. The sharp pain of the binding faded, replaced by an infuriatingly slow burn, an ache that began at the base of his spine. His tormented flesh flushed darker -- it would remain so, ever more agonizingly sensitive, until Raziel chose to release him... be that hours, or weeks._ _

__A fledgling to finish the bindings... Anani's breath was a low, shuddering hiss. "Sh-shall I attend to it now? Or may I have the honor of further serving your will?"_ _

__A taloned hand hooked around the nape of his neck, Raziel pulling him upward with inexorable strength. "Your skill in such service is temptation indeed," he purred against that parted mouth, and pressed his lips against it. As Anani shuddered, and pressed against him with desperate need, Raziel deepened the kiss, deliberately slicing his tongue against the sharp tips of Anani's fangs. Allowing the potent vitae of his blood to spill, and whet his firstborn's appetite ..._ _

__... and then, to pull away._ _

__It took an effort of will, but Raziel climbed to his feet, turning his back upon the panting and desperately aroused younger vampire with no outward sign of regret. "Yet I think I have allowed myself enough indulgence this eve. You may attend to my commands, Anani, as well as your other duties." It was unmistakably a dismissal, even as Raziel moved to pick up the goblet of bloodwine that had been laid aside._ _

__It took Anani a moment -- an eternity, for a mercury-natured Razielim -- to register Raziel's absence. The heat in his mouth matched the fire in his loins, but as the taste faded, the ache returned, consuming him once more. He exhaled a shuddering breath and levered himself to his feet, a hand on the marble tiles. He wasn't entirely certain he'd be able to rise without the support._ _

__Fist over his heart, Anani bowed shallowly, the movement a little jerky; every shift of his torso was a new stab of maddening sensation. "As you will, Master."_ _

__As Anani started out, he could summon the concentration only to admire the ease of his entrapment: how elegantly had he been distracted, outmaneuvered, circumvented! And to attend to his duties thusly, the scent of his own arousal clinging to him, so desperate that he'd not be able to so much as send a Whisper without announcing his need to the recipient and all who might overhear -- oh, what sharp and subtle chastisement!_ _

__Anani departed past the wide-eyed gaze of the door guard, coated liberally in his own blood and limping, but with a great deal to think about, and the trace of an ironic smile on his lips._ _


End file.
